Long Story
by TwilightChild999
Summary: Random moments of Spike's very long life. SpikeBuffy moments, SpikeDrusilla moments, SpikeHarmony and SpikeOC moments.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters involved in the story are not my creation, I do not make a profit off of these stories. Please don't take me to court.

**Story idea:** This story is basically just random moments of Spike's life. They don't come in any real order, I just put them down as I think them up. So don't be surprised if it jumps back and forth through the years without any warning. And not to worry, there will be much sex soon enough.

**Tell Me Something**

His pale skin gave her pause. When it was just them in the shadows, he seemed to glow under her fingertips. When all his dark clothing was cast aside and it was just him stretched out beneath her in all his glory, he could almost look like a shining beacon of light, an angel of sorts instead of the cold, dark creature she knew he was.

Buffy slumped down on top of him, breathing heavily, trembling from the orgasm that had just ripped through her body. She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against Spike's shoulder. His mock-breaths and the trembling of his body could almost make him pass for human, if it weren't for the stillness beneath her hand where a beating heart should be.

She knew already that after their third round, her legs would refuse to work. She rolled off of him, dislodging their bodies before resting beside him. It surprised Buffy that the vampire beside her hadn't said anything to ruin her good mood yet. She also surprised herself when she found herself cuddling into Spike's side, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He raised his hand and slowly let his fingertips move down her arm. The gentle touch sent a shiver down her body.

This was the time when she usually made an excuse and ran out the door. There was barely ever a time that she allowed Spike so close after their violent sexual escapades. Then again, it was also rare that they made it to the bed, like they had this time.

Buffy knew she should leave. This was the part where she threw insults and fists, to let him know it wouldn't happen again, even though they both knew she would be coming back for more. Then again, this was also the part where he usually said something stupid or offensive to deserve said fists.

He was keeping quiet. This was a night for rare occasions. For a moment, Buffy allowed herself a small bit of pride. Just think: she was actually good enough to shut Spike up.

Smiling, she chanced a glance up at her lover. She was surprised to find him staring up at the ceiling, a thoughtful expression on his face. His fingers were tracing small patterns on the soft skin between her shoulder blades, but his mind seemed miles away.

Usually, after their wild sexcapades he would be staring at her with adoration he couldn't possibly mask, or a wicked leer while he gloated about his ability to make her scream.

Should she be jealous of a ceiling?

Watching his expression, she was again struck by his beauty, and more…the humanity he would sometimes seem to possess, especially in moments like these. There were moments when it seemed impossible that he could be just some vampire. He always seemed to have more to him. Buffy realized in that moment that she really knew nothing about him. She knew him intimately, the sounds he made in passion and anger, every expression on his face, knew of some of his greatest battles with other slayers and that he used to consider a ho-bag nut case to be the love of his life.

But what else? There was 120 years of history in him, not even counting the years he had as a human. What made him what he is today? The former slayer of slayers? The passionate lover? The evil soulless vampire that somehow seemed to have more life and energy in him than most of the living people she knew? Despite how much the slayer side of her mind told her she didn't and shouldn't care, Buffy was suddenly very curious.

This was nice.

Spike hated feeling like such a damned poof for thinking it, but just being able to hold her was almost as good as the sex. With that in mind he sure as bloody hell wasn't going to open his trap and ruin it. At times like this he found himself comparing the powerful woman next to him to a timid bunny rabbit. If he made one wrong move she would flee back into the light.

All of this was the reason he was surprised that the slayer in his arms spoke up first, and not in a harsh or sarcastic tone of voice.

"Tell me something about your life…" She said softly. "Your human life."

Spike raised a scared eyebrow, baffled by her words.

"What?"

The slayer beside him shifted, resting her head against his shoulder and drawing small patterns on his chest with her fingertips, purposely avoiding his eyes.

"Tell me something about when you were human." She said again. "Something…something that doesn't involve you killing or maiming anyone."

Spike had had to resist a giving a rude snort. The thought of his human self killing or maiming anyone…the only weapon he ever wielded was his pen, terrifying the world with his bloody awful poetry. But Spike had no intentions of mentioning THAT to Buffy.

Frowning for a moment, he tried to think of something to tell her. What does one say about their lives when their lives had held nothing to speak of? His life as a human had been bland, boring, completely plain. There was no adventure tails to speak of. What should he say? Something about his schooling? His family's backround? His family?

He briefly considered speaking about his mother, but his mind automatically pushed the thought away. He wasn't going to tread in those dark waters. So how about his father? That was just about the only violence he had ever known in his lifetime…

Realizing he should say something before the tempermental slayer beside him began to think he was ignoring her, he settled on the topic.

"I barely knew my father…"

He spoke softly at first, so that Buffy had to listen very carefully to catch each word.

"He died when I was about…eight…seven…" He gave a casual shrug, keeping his tone light.

Somehow Buffy got the feeling she was going to regret this question… "How did he die?"

Spike hesitated for a moment before diving into his memories, trying to scrape up every detail. "My mum and I came home from the market one afternoon…I remember bugger all about the day before we got home. Just doesn't seem important…all I remember is wanting to tell my father something I had earlier that day. I knew where he was, in the library, like always. I ran past my mother and stopped just when I heard the pistol go off. When I went into the library I first saw someone climbing out the window. Then I saw my father.

Buffy grew tense as she listened to more and more of the story. There was a feeling of dread in her. But it wasn't dread of the story, it was dread of another piece of the puzzle that was the vampire next to her. Even though he spoke in an emotionless, almost casual voice, she could feel him just as tense next to her.

"Most of his forehead was gone, but that didn't quite compare to the back. Pieces of the back of his skull were on the floor near him. The blood spatter was all over his desk and the book shelves. Then there was the pool of it on the floor…stepped in some of that."

"I ran after that. I'm not quite sure how far or for how long…I remember my mother crying for me to stop, to come back, but I couldn't stop." His voice tensed just enough to betray a bit of emotion, and a chill went up Buffy's spine. "I stopped in some grungy ally. I didn't know where I was, I just knew my father's blood was on my shoe. I took both of them off and wandered around barefoot, probably confused for a beggar's child once or twice."

"Took them hours to find me. The servants of the house had been sent searching. They scooped me up and scolded me the whole way back, saying what a selfish boy I was for running off from my mother like that. Told me again and again how I had to be the man now and not leave her to her misery.

"But…you were only eight years old…they couldn't expect you to…"

"It was a different time, luv. Understanding for children wasn't quite popular yet, especially not among servants who had just lost their benefactor and was chasing his brat all over London."

Silence fell over them. Spike wasn't going to tell her the rest of the story…how he had clutched his mother's skirt when he was brought home and begged her forgiveness for leaving her alone. He wasn't going to tell her how he took care of her for the rest of her days.

Buffy was suddenly uncomfortable. More than that, she was afraid of that meaningful silence.. It wasn't just the silence…it was the emotion behind it. Buffy had a feeling that the bleached blonde beside her didn't share this story with just anyone…and imagining the vampire as a little boy trying to run away from his crumbling world suddenly made him far too…human. She couldn't think about him like that. She couldn't stand it. She had to remember what he was…a demon, a killer. There was no arguing the point, no matter what Spike's own memories might tell him.

Sliding away from her vampire lover, Buffy rose from the bed and started gathering her clothes. Spike didn't even bother questioning her, where she was going or what the hurry was…he had an idea already. Sighing, he kept his eyes on the ceiling. He wasn't going to let her know how much her pulling away hurt him. Now the pain was more than usual. He had just shared a part of himself…in fact, he just told a story he had never told anyone, in all his unlife. And just as he imagined she would, she had discarded it and the feeling within it.

As he listened to the slayer's mumbled excuse and her departing steps, he came to a conclusion that he didn't trust her any more than she trusted him. Hell, at least he had tried to earn her trust. The truth was, he decided, you could trust Buffy Summers with your life…but never your heart.

Unfortunately that didn't change that fact that his heart belonged to her. He sighed in frustration as he continued to gaze at the ceiling. "Bugger."


	2. FireWorks

**Disclaimer:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belonging in the show are still very much not my creation. Please don't sue me.

**Story:** This chapter was inspired by the fire works going on recently, though I changed the occasion from 4th of July to New Year's. Basically, Spike and Drusilla enjoy New Year's. Don't bother reading this chapter if you can't stand Spike/Drusilla.

**Fire Works Part I**

_New Year's Eve, New York, 1983_

"I want to watch the fire dance in the sky…"

Drusilla swayed on her feet, moving her arms in gentle waves, as if dancing to a music only she could hear.

"And we will, darling", Spike told her. "But we must get you something to eat first."

The vampiress smiled, blunt human teeth gleaming even as she snapped them at her platinum blonde lover's shoulder playfully. "We'll eat at the party, while all the pixies dance in the sky, and everyone will be too busy watching the light to care."

A slow smile tugged at Spike's lips. It had been more than a century now…(a century!)…and his Dark Princess still had him just as enchanted as always.

He stared at the beautiful vampire by his side, looking for all the world like a true princess in her long red ball gown and the white fur over her shoulders. (though the fur was speckled with the blood of the woman that had worn it previously) She had long white gloves that came up to her elbows, and a beautiful gold and diamond necklace drew plenty of attention to her bosom and long slender neck.

Spike, for his part, also looked decent and less punk than normal. He was in a fine tux that he had stolen just two nights ago for his Dark Goddess when she mentioned wanting to go to a ball this year. He kept his excessive rings and chains off tonight, and his black eyeliner had not been applied. He even allowed Drusilla to slick his white-blonde hair back neatly. It was the first time his hair had not been in spikes for at least six years.

To be honest, he had fallen for the new style. Of course, if it was on anyone else with any other color hair he would call it downright poncey.

It was easy to find a party in New York, there were going to be hundreds of parties thrown by all sorts of crowds. But spike didn't want just any party tonight. Tonight they were stepping up a little more than usual. They were going to a very upscale party that they had heard about the night before. It was to the docks they were headed.

Despite himself, Spike was almost impressed when they came upon the ship. It was obviously a private vessel, but of massive size. It was brightly lit, with white Christmas lights strung all along the banisters. There were so many party goers it looked like a cruise ship, only instead of scantily clad, everyone was dressed in their finest. There was someone on the docks to take the invitations they had lifted off of their victims before they were allowed on board. Normally Spike wouldn't bother with such details, just make the bouncers disappear. But they were going to be on a ship, not in a club. It was easier to disappear from a club.

On deck it was a true party, a ball of sorts, just like Dru had called it. There was a dance floor that took up half of the deck, a band playing and a black woman with a deep, powerful but utterly beautiful voice singing old jazz songs. There was a large buffet…of course, to the two vampires the entire ship was a large buffet. Spike watched as Drusilla eyed each one carefully, making her selection as if from a menu.

A plump woman in a lavender and silver gown approached. She wore her graying hair up. She seemed to hold a small bit of distaste for Spike on sight because of his obviously bleached hair, but in Drusilla she saw true class. Of course, she also saw the small droplets of blood on the otherwise pure white fur on Drusilla's shoulders.

"Was it those damned protesters?" She demanded immediately, mistaking the blood for red paint. "Having the audacity to ruin such a beautiful fur."

Drusilla turned to her, and Spike couldn't help but smirk in amusement.

"Don't worry dear, its barely noticeable." The plump woman continued. "So ridiculous, saying its murder to make a coat."

"Oh no", Spike said. "It was murder getting the coat."

Their was a devilish look in the vampire's blue eyes. In fact, the woman addressing them could have sworn she had seen a flash of amber in their depths…she smiled politely and nodded to the mysterious pair. She excused herself, looking somewhat flustered as she turned and made her way through the crowd to greet a couple she had actually recognized.

"Naughty Spike", Drusilla chided, but with a grin on her lips. "Scaring the pretty treats away."

Snorting, Spike took her hand. "Hardly pretty…besides, Dru, where can I scare them away to?"

The anchor had just been pulled from the water and the ship was already pulling away from the docks. He knew that if any of the humans truly wished to flee from them they would have to jump overboard.

On stage, the singer announced how close they were to midnight. She then began to sing 'Embracable You'. Spike brought his princess onto the dance floor. Drusilla's gloved hands rested on his shoulders while his arms were wrapped firmly and possessively around her. They swayed gently together, circling gracefully, Drusilla's hypnotizing eyes capturing and holding Spike's blue eyes, which seemed to shine with devotion. They drew many stares, but paid attention to no one outside their little world.

They danced together until it was announced that the fire works were about to begin. Dru stopped her dance and clapped like a happy child, before taking Spike's hand and leading him towards the back of the crowd. "Now is our meal time, my sweet."

Following along without complaint, he soon saw that Drusilla was leading them to a bench near one of the railings. He grinned when he saw the couple there…they were the only two, mostly concealed by the crowd. They knew no one would pay them any attention, say they were taking full advantage and making out for all they were worth. Both looked about 16, one an average looking boy with sandy blonde hair and a tux that was too big, and the other a dark haired girl, petite with a knee length red dress with spaghetti straps. The young man's hand was sneaking down the top of the dress, gently cupping one of the small breasts and brushing his thumb over her nipple.

Both of the vampires took their advantage quickly. Drusilla sat beside the young man, and Spike beside the young woman. At Drusilla's hand on his back, the young man pulled away and looked at her hungry gaze questioningly.

The countdown began.

10…

9…

8…

The many voices of those on the ship filled the night air, while Spike took hold of the girl's shoulder and pulled her back against him. His fingers were tight on her bare shoulder, causing her to wince and look at him with confusion.

7…

6…

5…

"Hey!" The young man shouted at Spike, but it could barely be heard over the many voices around them.

4…

3…

2…

As if on command, both vampires shifted to their true faces, eyes turning amber, fangs lengthening and ridges extending.

1…

Both teens screamed a bloodcurdling cry of terror just as the earsplitting shouts of "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" took away any chance of them being heard. Both struggled against the powerful creatures but both sets of fangs found purchase in a victim's neck.

Spike pulled the young girl onto his lap and turned her to face him while he fed, so it would look like they were just making out in the heat of the moment. Drusilla turned the boy to face her and fed from the side that couldn't be seen by the crowd. No one bothered to look their way, shinning confetti seemed to be thrown everywhere, from everyone. People were blowing on noise makers, embracing one another or dancing again.

Spike was the first to raise his head, since it took much less time to drain a small girl. He licked the blood from his lips as he watched the first of the fireworks take to the air. He looked over at Drusilla, and saw that she had just finished her meal as well. He grinned at her, keeping his vampiric face as he leaned across the bench and two bodies. She leaned close as well and touched her lips to Spike's, then traced her tongue across his lips and right inside of them, tasting the blood from the girl before Spike deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth.

They pulled away only after Drusilla had noticed the fire works out long last. Her head jerked up and she took in the bright explosions of color with awe. Normally loud noises would disturb her unless she was the cause. She raised her hands and clapped yet again as the sky filled with reds and oranges, as if on fire. Then she cried out in glee as it was blue and silver, sparkling in the sky.

Pulling his gaze away from the sparkling sky, Spike settled it on the beauty beside him. Both their faces had returned to their human masks. Spike watched as the lights from the sky reflected in his lover's eyes, and shone across her pale skin. He smiled as he watched her reaction, far more interested in her childish glee then the lightshow above. For just a moment he had to wonder if at any time at all in his life he had truly done something to deserve such a beautiful creature.

**End of Chapter Comments: **Reviews are more than welcome, in fact encouraged. This is the very first Buffy fanfic I have EVER done and I would like everyone to let me know if they think I'm portraying the characters ok. Comments, questions and praises are always welcome, as long as not completely offensive, please.


	3. Rebirth

**Disclaimer: **Buffy the vampire slayer and all characters therein are not my creation, yada yada yada.

**Chapter Concept: **This is Spike/Drusilla, my take on Spike's possible first night as a vampire.

**Rebirth**

_**London, 1880**_

Golden eyes. Or were they amber?

A man thought of the strangest things while dying, and William was sure he had seen the strange woman's eyes turn golden right before she bit him. Somehow, he had not been frightened by it in the least. He also found it strange that he knew he was dying, and yet that didn't frighten him either.

He had seen things in those amber eyes. The woman killing him had shown him such glorious things, and now he couldn't bear for her to stop what she was doing. ((Alright, so his first reaction had been 'Ow, ow OW!', but he was past that now)

Moments of his life drifted idly through William's mind, even as he was trying to stay grounded. His fathers death came to mind, and how he had always been appalled by violence thereafter. That was why he had always preferred creating things of beauty…

Thoughts of his mother surfaced along with his father, how as a small child he had clutched at her skirts and wept, promising to never stray far again, and to always look after her. He kept the promise always, watching out for her, taking care of her…what would she think if he didn't come home? What if he left her all alone, like his father had?

Thoughts of his school years came and went, the bullying and humiliation, like at the party he had just fled…thoughts of Cecily and her last words to him… 'You're beneath me'.

His thoughts stopped their wandering and were brought right back to an alleyway in London, where he had fled to escape heartbreak and humiliation. His mind was in a daze, and his body barely strong enough to move his limbs. William also realized that he was no longer standing. He had slowly sunk to the ground and was no being cradled in the arms of the mysterious woman who had frightened him with lunacy and thrilled him with promises of glory.

The dark haired woman holding him had just cut a line across her chest, right over the swell of her breast. In his fog-filled mind William found himself worried that she might dirty her pretty dress. But the woman was holding his head up now, cradling his head against hr chest so the blood touched his lips. She was stroking his mop of curls and whispering soft, motherly words to him.

"Now be a brave boy and drink up, then all the world will be yours to drink…"

The coppery taste of blood was strange to him, but he still obeyed. It filled his mouth and trickled down his throat. The last sound he heard was the soft melody of her voice, before everything faded…

The first thing William smelled when he came to…was dirt. Yep. That was dirt. Sure, William had lived in a part of London where streets were cobblestone and the people far too refined and cultured to go mucking around in the dirt…but one could never really mistake the scent of freshly turned soil.

And what was more…he was surrounded by it, covered in it. It seemed oddly refreshing. It was cool on his skin and only slightly damp on his tweed suite. William tried to take a guess on how much dirt was covering him. How was he going to breath? But just as that thought hit him, he realized he hadn't been breathing at all yet.

The dirt wasn't heavy. It only took sitting up to find air that he no longer needed. His glasses were askew on his face, and he quickly adjusted them to take in his surroundings. William frowned when he found his surroundings blurry. He took off his glasses to clean them, then blinked, his eyes widening in surprise…the night suddenly became perfectly clear. He could see the garden he appeared to be buried in just fine.

Taking in his surroundings, William took note of the brick wall surrounding the garden. He noticed the perfectly green grass broken only by lavender flowers and roses of red and pink. There were only a couple of trees and a fine fountain in the center of the garden. He was buried under a large oak.

William stumbled as he tried to stand, his legs shaky and unsure. He brushed most of the dirt from his suit and shook it out of his curls. He looked down at his glasses, grinning and thrilled as he broke them in his hand. He let the small wire frame and the glass fall from his hand before looking up at the night sky, barely able to see the stars, but able to see the bright full moon just fine. It cast a beautiful glow on everything in sight, and William marveled at being able to see and hear everything, far more than he ever could before.

"My pet likes his new world…", a sweet voice behind him whispered.

Grinning broadly, William whirled around to come face to face with the dark beauty he had met in the alley. She was grinning at him with anticipation, doing a small dance under the moonlight as she sauntered towards him.

The night before William would have described her as too bold with more than a hint of lunacy. But now he detected much more…she had a child's playfulness and a knowledge and insight that surpassed any other woman William had ever met. He studied her, no longer looking at her through a haze of tears and heartbreak…now his heart and mind were clear. This mysterious beauty with dark curly hair, pale skin, haunting eyes and her elegant figure in black lace had done something to him that he couldn't describe.

"And you…" William stepped closer with no more hesitance. "You gave me this new world…didn't you?"

Her smile was breathtaking and ultimately wicked. "Do you like it?" She asked coyly, moving closer so that their bodies were inches apart. She raised her hand and traced her long fingernails gently across the hollow of William's cheek. "There's so much more to show you."

William was lost. He knew it the moment he felt her touch. He was lost in the depths of beautiful blue eyes, wide and wild. He stepped closer to her, wanting to close the gap between their bodies. "Who are you?"

"Drusilla", she spoke simply, as if the answer should be obvious.

"Drusilla…", William whispered, his voice deep and low with undisguised awe. He took her hand from his cheek, then brought it to his lips, gently kissing the back. "I am William."

Smiling mischeviously, Drusilla pulled her hand slowly from his grasp before making her way slowly towards the 7 foot stone wall that surrounded the garden. "Our first treats will arrive soon for the party. We must be prepared."

He wasn't sure what he meant, but he followed her anyway. Then he stared in amazement as the frail looking woman leapt clear over the 7 foot wall, barely ruffling her dress. He could hear her voice calling from the other side, so he was sure he was meant to follow…he just didn't know how.

Stepping up to the wall, he placed his hand on it, trying to find a possible purchase. He found none. He sighed, not wanting to look like such a fool in front of a lady…he jumped up, grabbing hold of the edge of the wall, then, to his surprise, effortlessly pulling himself up. He crouched there for a moment, taking in the sight of the quiet courtyard and the carriage pulling up to the house the garden belonged to.

Looking down, he found his lady fair approaching the carriage. William immediately thought how terribly embarrassing it would be to be caught…'yes, pardon our trespassing, I was buried in your garden'.

He leapt down, crouching on the ground and in the shadows for a moment before following after Drusilla. She seemed to hold no fear of embarrassment…did she know these people, perhaps?

Soon the family approaching the house were stepping out of the coach…a man, his wife, nearly grown son and young daughter. As soon as he and Drusilla got close enough to catch their scents, William felt the structure of his face shift. A deep hunger overtook him and a growl emerged from his throat. His mind became a red haze. All he could think about was hunger as the sounds of four heart beats echoed through his entire system.

Without further thought, he lunged and broke into a run. He circled around the coach, a loud growl sounding, causes the horses to rear up in alarm. The woman was the first to flee towards the house, and he snatched her up. He wrapped his arms tightly around her tiny frame, pulling her close against his body. He did not see the woman, only the need to feed from her. He sank his fangs into her throat, barely hearing her half choked scream and not even phased by her flailing.

The entire world seemed to fade away at the taste of her blood. He had never known such outrageous hunger, nor such satisfaction for it. He drank his fill as quickly as he could, and the world didn't return until it was brought back suddenly by a sharp blow to the back of his head. He dropped the woman immediately and turned, once again being struck by the metal of a shovel wielded by the woman's husband.

William stumbled back, clutching his head. It was the first time in his life that he had ever been struck in such a manner. In fact, it was the first night he had ever been in the midst of such violence. He pulled his hand away from his head, looking down at the blood on his fingers. He tilted his head and regarded the man preparing himself to take another swing.

"Monster!" He shouted. "Vile beast! Stay away from my wife!"

The pain racing through William's head felt like an experiment. He took a step back, but not out of fear. He waited for the enraged husband to take another swing…then easily leaned back and ducked under, avoiding the blow before grabbing hold of the shovel and ripping it from his grip, dislocating one of the man's shoulders. Without pause to hear the scream that followed he slammed the shovel against his head, cracking his skull and knocking him out.

"That was…barbaric." William whispered to himself. He then turned to look for more victims. "I like it."

A gunshot rang out, striking the stone right near William's foot. He turned quickly to find the source. It was the young man, the son. He had ran into the house and retrieved a weapon, and was holding it in a shaking hand, standing just a few feet outside the doorway. But before he could lunge and take the boy for himself, Drusilla had approached from behind him, grabbing hold of the boy's head and snapping his neck like a snack. William could only smile in admiration as he watched her face shift, her fangs extend and amber eyes show as she began to feed.

Now there was only one more…the little girl was clutching her doll, crying hysterically as she hid in the coach. He grinned as he saw her, listening to her heart beat and wondering if her blood tasted any different from her mother's…

But it was Drusilla that approached the coach first. Her every step was a gentle sway, and her expression was much like a curious child. William stepped aside without arguing. If she wanted the child…if she wanted a thousand, William would not be in her way. He grinned a bit as he watched, noticing the hypnotizing look in her eye…he recognized that. He loved that.

She cooed to the child, her words so soft that he could not hear. The confused child moved forward in the carriage hesitantly and Drusilla wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close and into her arms. William watched in fascination as she sang to the child, Mary Mary, quite contrary…dancing in slow circles and holding the frightened girl close before sinking her fangs into the fragile throat.

William did not understand what had happened to him…but he decided very firmly that at the moment, he didn't need to. At the moment he was back in the garden he had risen from among the scent of lavender and roses, watching a woman who had enchanted and completely change him playing with a doll she had taken from her meal. He could not help but smile as he watched her whisper a secret to the doll's ear.

"What does she say, pet?" William asked curiously.

Drusilla seemed surprised but pleased by his question and grinned all the happier. "She says I'll get to take more purity tonight…" Her gaze traveled over William's body.

He wasn't entirely sure why, but William was sure he should have been blushing. "Oh…and who's purity will you be taking?"

Grinning like she held a conspiracy, Drusilla placed the doll down against one of the trees, making her face them as if to watch them. She crawled slowly across the grass towards William, who had been lounging back against the fountain. He became a bit nervous, but made no attempt to get out of the way.

Drusilla raised her skirts, then slowly slid onto his lap. William found himself breathing even when he didn't need to. A woman had never been so casual yet provocative with him…Drusilla was moving her fingers through his hair, then down his face and across his cheeks.

"Never been touched before?" Drusilla whispered in a soft voice, leaning close to him. William sat up more, trying to hide the embarrassing bulge growing in his pants, but every time he moved it just brushed against her thigh. Drusilla only encouraged it, wiggling herself against his body as she licked at his ear. When she heard William gasp she took his hands, then led them to her body and placed one on each side of her hip. "Never touched what you wanted?"

Swallowing hard, William shook his head. He wasn't sure he could speak with any dignity. He was sure he would burst when she said her next words…

"Touch me how you want."

Reviews are always welcome. I love them. Also, the very much uncensored version of this story can be found at under the author name TwilightChild.


	4. Passion and Poems

**Disclaimer: **Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters in the show are in no way my creation. And the poem used in this fic was written by W.B Yeats.

**Chapter Comments: **Takes place between 'Smashed' and 'Wrecked', Season six.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Passion and Poems 

Spike was completely knackered. He was also more sated then he had ever been in his life. His entire body was completely and utterly satisfied. It practically sang in afterglow. He stretched on the floor, his leather duster spread underneath him.

The woman beside him was obviously just as satisfied. She had long since fallen asleep from exhaustion, and there was a small smile on her face that, had she been awake, she would have denied.

But Spike would forever remember the sounds the Slayer made, her screams of pleasure from his touch, and would forever remember her taste, the feeling of her soft skin, and the scent of her arousal.

Buffy had silently refused to sleep in his arms. When they had both been spent and his touch had turned tender she had turned away, turning partially onto her side and covering herself as much as she could with her leather skirt. She had retreated within herself.

He wanted to touch her again. He wanted to hold her. The cold had never bothered him before, but he wanted the warmth of her body close. And if he was honest with himself, Spike was afraid. He had just gotten a taste of something amazing; something beyond anything he had tasted before. Now he didn't know if he could ever let her go.

He had known he was damned (well, more so) the moment he knew he had fallen in love with her. Would this change anything? Was he any closer to her at all? He felt like a nancy boy, worrying if she was going to be there when he woke up.

Spike had decided not to sleep. He didn't want to sleep. No dream could have been better. There was still enough shelter from the crumbled house to keep him from the sun, which he knew was already starting to rise. He would watch his Slayer – his Lover- sleep. Tomorrow would come and bring what it would. He wouldn't know until she woke.

Watching her peaceful face, he was horrified to find William the Bloody Awful poet rising to the surface. Ridiculous sonnets were already floating through his head, but he pushed them aside. Instead, a poem written by a much better man came to mind and that one he didn't push away. He whispered it softly like a prayer.

"Had I heaven's embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet"

He swallowed hard, then reached over and softly brushed some of her long golden locks away from her face, his fingertips lingering at her cheek. Just to touch her seemed like heaven.

"But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;"

He caressed her face, then brushed his thumb across her lips, remembering their taste.

"Tread softly", he quietly begged her, thinking of what the morning would bring. "Because you tread on my dreams."


End file.
